


suddenly, darkness

by Anonymous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man Far From Home (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barebacking, Bondage, Edgeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic sexual descriptions, Kinktober 2019, Knifeplay, M/M, Mild D/s, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Quentin aka Mysterio is not a Bad Guy, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensory Deprivation, Temperature Play, ambiguous time period, but Peter is 18 or 19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 19:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It's not like things really need spicing up in the first flush, the last three weeks of having gone from, maybe He'll ask Peter to get a drink sometime, or since he can't drink outside Europe, to share a cigarette outside, on the rooftop of the former Avenger tower, to now they're fucking regularly, but Quentin always has ideas to make things... interesting.Peter agrees, happily, in that way that bright starry eyed younger guys do.





	suddenly, darkness

**Author's Note:**

> happy october 3rd, my first mysteriospider fic, because god, jake is so hot, and i am only a weak horny human.  
everything is consensual, peter isn't actually 16/17, yadda yadda, time travel and the soul stone, blah blah blah.
> 
> Quentin calls Peter a twink as if he's not a twink himself, with a fucking beard to pretend otherwise lmaooo

“You doing okay up there champ?” Quentin asks, his drawling voice a change of pace from the theatrical lilt he usually puts on, at least, when they’re out saving the world. Pieces and parts of it, rather. “Y-yeah, I think so, Mister Beck.”

He’s asked this damn twink to use his first name five billion times at this point, but Peter always insists on being so formal. It’s adorable, and fucking sexy, but he’ll never admit it. 

“All-righty then, here comes the ice cubes.” He’s warning Peter, because his incredible senses are slightly hampered by a jet black blindfold, wrapped securely around his head. Quentin catches him biting his lip, and just shakes his head. 

Even without knowing it, Peter finds a way to keep him on the edge. 

Of course, the second he agreed to let Quentin tie him up he was on the verge of coming, without much else.

Peter strains against his bonds, wrists tied up to the silver bar that’s at the perfect height for this, or maybe if you feel like doing two dozen pull ups, like sometimes Quentin walks in on him doing at three in the morning when he can’t sleep.

His legs aren’t tied to anything, just bound together at the ankles, while entirely naked, with just the cutest pair of black lace boxers on. Quentin saw them online and originally planned to buy them for himself, because fuck it, he likes to look pretty too, but then Peter snuck up behind him and squeaked at the pictures on his laptop, on the legit website. 

“That’s uh, something.” He’d choked out, and Quentin, smirking, added two pairs to the cart. “Yeah, kid, they sure are.” 

Now he’s the first one in them, and it’s the back up pair too, because Quentin plans on destroying them in more ways than one. Peter gasps at the touch of an ice cube to his collarbone, the cold water dripping down his chest, just shy of his nipple. Quentin doesn’t ignore those, in fact, he moves closer, slotting his lips over the same spot the ice first kissed, making a very large, obscene mark on the side of Peter’s neck, while slipping the remains of the cube inside of the boxer’s waistband. Peter squirms at this, clearly aware of what he’s doing, and he smiles. 

“Having fun?” He asks, as Peter grunts and tries to shift so that he can kiss Quentin properly. 

“No! I want you to touch me. I wanna feel you, please!” 

He huffs. “So impatient… tisk-tisk. Good things come to boys who wait.” 

Quentin’s hand doesn’t stay idle, next he uses the feather he’s tied to a chopstick, dragging it around the back of Peter’s knees, up to his inner thighs, then he rubs it right over the boy’s cock. 

“You like that?” He asks, voice low, raspy, betraying just how eager he’s getting too. Peter whines, “God, yes… please.” 

Peter doesn’t ask for more again, and because of that, Quentin is very tempted to reward him, just a little. 

Reaching into those boxers, black silk cradling Peter’s cock, framed by lace, he rearranges the flushed pink shaft to stick out of the top band. He says nothing, going to his knees, just barely breathing against the head, wet from a pearl of fluid.

“Oh! Oh god, please!” Peter jerks his arms, bending his legs up to attempt trapping Quentin right where he already wants to be. He smiles, and then opens his mouth, licking up just that single bead of precum, before slowly kissing a trail up from Peter’s cock to his navel, and higher, until he’s standing, and sucking first one nipple, then the other. 

They harden and bud tightly, as Quentin moves away, Peter tries to chase after him, thrusting his cock against the empty air. He tosses the feather away and grabs another ice cube. “Are you going to behave, or do I need to bring out the knife?”

Quentin murmurs, making Peter go entirely still. “The what?” He gasps, and Quentin grins. 

“Just how else did you expect I was going to fuck you? Gotta make a little hole in those pretty panties.” 

He walks around where Peter hangs, breathing heavy, clearly anticipating just that, with the added threat of a knife, Quentin thinks even his heartbeat has sped up. He’s aching too now, throbbing for some contact, in just his favorite teal bathrobe, probably getting the groin soaked in his eagerness. Peter’s back arches, pushing his ass back against him, being the manipulative little shit he always is, trying to regain control, despite being completely restrained. Quentin smiles.

It’s why he wants it so badly too. “It won’t hurt will it?” Peter asks, voice shaky. “Not at all, if you hold very, very still.”

He takes a deep breath, hears Peter do the same, and then unsheathes his knife, pressing the tip right against the swell of a luscious asscheek, with a flick of his wrist, there’s a cut in the lace. Quentin does the same on the other side, and then across the top, leaving a perfectly carved flap of fabric to allow plenty of access to Peter’s hole. 

This time when he goes to his knees, he uses both hands, knife already put to the side, and Quentin parts those cheeks with one hand, giving him an eyeful of pink twitching hole, while cupping over Peter’s cock around front with the other.

He massages the length and rubs his thumb across the wet slit on the tip, while leaning in to nose against Peter’s cleft, licking a wet stripe from his hole to his taint. “Oh fu-u-uck…” Peter moans, doing his very best to stay still, as ordered.

Quentin only lets go when he feels the way Peter’s muscles begin to strain, he’s so sensitive, gets closer to coming about ten times faster than him, so he relents, putting both hands on the boy’s hips, keeping him still to continue licking into his ass. By the time Peter starts mindlessly babbling, and Quentin can see sweat forming over his shoulder blades, he grins, getting to his feet, shedding his robe dramatically with a whoosh. 

Peter can’t see, so it really  _ doesn’t _ matter, but Quentin can’t resist. 

“Can you hold still while I fuck you? Like a good little toy?” Quentin asks, whispering right against the shell of Peter’s earlobe, and he feels the boy shuddering. “I’m not sure, Mister Beck… but I’ll try.” That’s all he ever wants. 

Quentin grabs the nearby bottle of lube, from his tray table of toys, properly slicking up three fingers before adding one to Peter’s hole. He circles the rim slowly, letting Peter silently beg, before granting entrance for the first one, sliding the second right after, curling them hard, massaging the sweet spot to make the boy whimper. 

Quentin rubs harder and harder, until Peter is actively squirming away, crying out that he’s too close. 

“But baby, I have to make sure you’re ready. Don’t wanna hurt you.” Peter grunts and writhes, not staying very still at all, which Quentin chooses to ignore. Another finger now, and Quentin can feel as the soft fluttering hole clenches while Peter fights the urge to come. “If you can wait to come on my cock, I’ll give you a treat.” 

“God! Okay, you gotta stop fingering me or else-” Peter cuts off with a sob, and Quentin relents, pulling his hand back. After wiping off the excess lube onto his cock, he steps right up behind Peter, rutting against him, biting the curve of where his neck meets his shoulder. “Hold on baby, here I come.” The first slow push is always agonizing, but oh so sweet, with Peter reacting, gasping and straining to keep still, just like he’s been told, Quentin’s eyes fall shut and he grits his teeth. The urge to just snap his hips and fucking  _ bury _ himself inside the tight hot grasp of Peter’s ass is very strong. 

However, he’s been waiting just as long, and he’s supposed to be an example, to be tougher, more patient. 

Quentin pants against the back of Peter’s neck, and rubs his cheek into the pale swath of skin, hard enough to leave marks, along with some beard burn. Peter always insists he loves it, craves it, needs it  _ below _ his neck, so no one will ask weird questions in his classes. Quentin could really care less, but he also knows Peter’s full of it, because he heals quickly. 

Peter is just  _ shy _ about love bites. “Good boy, that’s it.” Quentin chokes out, and thrusts forward harder, faster, until there’s no noise besides the slap of skin on skin, along with their shared exhalations. 

Peter lets out a low moan, and comes suddenly, head thrown back against Quentin’s shoulder, body shuddering, tightening impossibly around his cock, spilling onto himself, shooting his release over his abs, then drooling onto the floor. 

Several dribbles of white catch on the boxers, just as Quentin expected. 

Actually, Peter did far better, not jizzing into them from the first touch of a knife, or the ice. He can’t hope to resist now. 

Quentin gives one final push, and then grabs hard around Peter’s waist, clinging to him as he comes, a warm rush filling the plush ass he’s shoved his cock into, overflowing out and dripping back down. The cut edges of the boxers aren’t fairing much better, shiny wet with lube, and saliva, as Quentin got a little too much into the whole ass eating bit. 

Peter squirms a little in his embrace. “Can I be untied now?” 

Quentin startles, blinking, and then he grins, kissing the side of Peter’s cheek. “Absolutely.” 

He moves away, reluctantly pulling out, every time, because he could watch Peter’s hole leak his come all fucking day. 

Reaching up to undo Peter’s wrist ties, Quentin can already see the mark he left on the side of the boy’s neck fading.

“That was fun, right?” He asks, a hint of a tremor sneaking into his voice. Peter beams at him. 

“Oh yeah, it sure was, even though that thing with the knife made me a little scared. What’s my treat?” 

Quentin rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You’re unbelievable, kid. Shower time, lets go.” 

Peter has already undone his own ankle ties, because with his hands free he really is an escape artist. 

He trails after Quentin and hops into the glass walled shower with the eagerness of a puppy. Hugging Quentin from behind, Peter’s distracting, but he gets the water going, then turns around to kiss him without a hint of hesitation. 

Peter melts into it, and Quentin whispers this is it. He knows how much the boy enjoys kissing, so to withhold it from him for a whole sex session was far worse than any other orgasm denial scheme Quentin could cook up. 

“Thanks for indulging me.” He says, and Peter hums. “Anytime, yeah. It was kind of cool not having any responsibility except, ya’know, not coming.” Quentin nods. “That’s the great thing about  _ this _ .” He gestures between the two of them. 

“The weight of the world is too much sometimes. Good to take a break.” Peter nods, wrapping his arms around Quentin’s shoulders, silently asking for another kiss. Under the spray of the hot water, it’s almost like being in a dream. 

Tomorrow they have to go back to work, but tonight, they have each other.

**Author's Note:**

> kinktober day 3: Sensory Deprivation | Temperature Play | Edgeplay | Knife Play
> 
> the boxers in question: https://www.farfetch.com/es/shopping/men/versace-boxer-de-encaje-con-logo-item-13621661.aspx


End file.
